


Ghost of Christmas Past

by thegorillaarchives



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: M/M, Mixed with Some Real Verse, Sad Christmas, Teen AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 17:06:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8900734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegorillaarchives/pseuds/thegorillaarchives
Summary: Gorilla is a sad lonely man that sometimes let's his mind wander over choices that could have changed the lives of several people, but usually on Christmas.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marinetthoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinetthoughts/gifts).



> Max was fighting for some teen christmas, and I thought it would be a great sad present. Good job team.

Gorilla could never honestly say that he _never_ liked Christmas. Honestly if he looked far enough back into his life, he could promptly remember loving Christmas. However, Gorilla never allowed himself to look back in such a way. If you look back too intensely, you start to remember more than anyone could want.

So, it was Gorilla _alone_ once again this holiday. He returned to his single bedroom apartment that had a too small door that led directly to his livingroom or more his bedroom as his bed sat promptly in the middle of the sad area. The too large man pushed open his balcony door, letting the chill flood his small apartment. He toed out of his shoes, removing his heavy coat to leave his light hand knitted sweater on his shoulders.

The sweet hum of carols floated with the wind to his opened balcony, making his shoulders tense. No, it was not that he _never_ liked Christmas, but he certainly disliked it now. Especially as his eyes trailed to the box on his counter. The box itself was almost an eyesore as it sat on the nearly empty counter, only given companionship by a bottle of wine and a single glass. The colors even burned bright against the more monotone of the home, glimmering with festive green and red.

It strikes Gorilla that he should’ve never stepped foot into that damn bakery today. Especially not when he was sure Marinette wasn’t the one manning the shop alone. No. He decided he would buy his own gift, as no one ever remembered the mute man existed much less deemed him important enough to buy a gift for.

Just looking at the box brought him back to earlier in the day, when the box was full and still warm. He could almost see the encompassing hands that held the box as if it was the most important thing in the world. He could hear the friendly and loud tone that was followed by the titter of a softer voice. He could smell fresh goods, and could hear the _thump_ of Marinette from above them. But it seemed that the festive atmosphere died when they saw who waited for the box.

The gentle titter went quiet, bringing Gorilla’s eyes to the almost angry glare of the woman he had been avoiding nearly every day. But if the titter stopping made the room pause, it was the silence of the previously booming voice that made the silence almost smothering. Gorilla knew better than this. He knew better than to look at _him_. But it was instinctive. Heading for 20 years later and it was still _instinct_ to look at him. Especially on this day. When Christmas hung in the air and snow made cheeks pink.

Even with these thoughts, Gorilla’s eyes went to Tom.

If coming to the shop was the first mistake, then waiting alone was the second, and the third and final mistake was looking into his eyes. Three Strikes you’re out, that was an American saying right? Yet, Gorilla was not seeing _Tom_ , he was seeing his past. He was seeing Christmases that came long ago. He saw his happiness. And in the end his truest loss.

No one spoke. Gorilla set exact change down. He placed money in the tip jar and took his box. His festive, green and red box with the order written in the scrawl of Tom. And with that he left. He had been dismissed for the night, apparently neither Gabriel nor Adrien would be needing him. Perhaps it was this that made it all the worse. He could not lose himself in driving, he could not listen to Adrien nor watch how Gabriel went through the motions. Even his phone felt useless as there was no true end to a game when there was no time to wait.

He was useless.

He was alone.

So what was a man to do but take that bottle of wine and that box and head for the balcony, surrounded by snow. Snow. Snow. Snow. And Stars. Each swig of wine washed down bites of the sweetest baked goods he had ever had. Farther and farther the wine sank in the bottle, each move to drink getting slower and slower.

Gorilla doesn’t know why it happened. He doesn’t know when he started remembering. When he allowed himself to look back. Maybe it was the treats itself. Maybe it was the wine.

Either way it always came back in the same stages. Christmas songs. There was always music back then. Back when he had a man he loved in his arms, when he had friends that looked to him for his thoughts; when he wasn’t just a man with a car, a bottle of wine, and a shit apartment.

Gorilla could still see it. Christmas caroling. Sure, he never sang, but he followed the pack of friends that thought it was fun. That was the same Christmas he held Tom’s hand for the first time. Of course, the large man had forgotten his gloves, Gorilla never went out for long. That was the excuse. A little grumble, with a blow of hot air into his hands and Tom’s hand found his in seconds. Tom was always so warm. No matter where he was, if Gorilla was close by the frigid air was nothing. Snow could brush his skin but not chill his heart. He stayed by Tom’s side the full night, their fingers intertwined.

Another swig, another good.

Gorilla is brought to the end of that night. Brought to quiet laughs hidden behind warm hands. Brought to a silent night made alive by the large man that helped crowd a too small doorway. Brought to red cheeks, not from cold but from a sense of warmth that was far too strong. Brought to the softest brush of lips and the sweetest laugh. A chuckle that came from a wide chest. Their first kiss. Under the mistletoe. With everyone asleep around them. Aside from a little bag of flour that was left in a makeshift cradle with a crudely scrawled name _Marinette_ peering up at her two makeshift parents.

Two swigs, no good. The sweet liquid is draining faster than the box. That box. Gorilla’s mind drifts to his cabinets, tries to remember if there was another bottle somewhere.

He is brought to another Christmas. Brought to fumbling and gifts. New ovens mitts, embroidered by hand are passed from one capable set of hands to the true chef of the couple. New knitting needles are handed back with a shy laugh. The same chuckle that came from deep in the chest, the same one from the kiss a year ago. A ring remains hidden in the pocket of Gorilla’s coat.

A deep drawn in swig, that drains the same as two had the previous goes.

They had celebrated early. They had shared Christmas early due to the party their friends were hosting. Gorilla plotted for that night. To ask Tom to marry him. They had only been dating for two years. But two years with your soul mate is enough. Two years with a man that made everything you have feel worthless because he is all you need is enough. He holds onto the ring tightly through the day. He can’t wait.

That was when it all went to shit.

Gorilla hadn’t meant it to happen. Hadn’t meant to allow school, allow work and friends to lead him to anger. He hadn’t meant to break Tom’s trust. Gorilla had been doing so well. He had been able to speak with Tom. Something his therapist said was Gorilla making leaps and bounds. Not much and not for too long at first. But it was getting so easy. Gorilla remembered his first words to the other man. The softest _Merry Christmas, Tom_ under that very mistletoe of their first kiss.

Gorilla lost it. He shut down. And he was silent for _days_. Tom was in a panic. Sure, sometimes Gorilla went radio silence but not for so long. And he never left their shared apartment with the bedroom in the damn livingroom without a note or his phone.

Tom called everyone.

Gorilla drank himself away.

And when he came back. Tom was crying and he had someone with him. He had the very rat that made Gorilla leave by his side. She glared deep daggers into him. Sabine. Sweet, Soft Spoken Sabine. The Sabine that Gorilla hid from. The one that loved Tom. He was locked up, smelling of alcohol.

But when Tom looked up, he went to him. They hugged under a mistletoe, but they didn’t kiss. They didn’t speak. There was no music. And it was under that mistletoe that Gorilla shoved Tom away. It was that night that he left with a bag, A ring and the receipt in his pocket. And it was that night that he left with Gabriel to Milan or wherever his profession brought him. It was the next day that Gorilla looked out the window from behind the wheel, with Gabriel in the back, that he hoped Tom got everything he wished for for that Christmas.

It was that night with a bottle of wine and a box of red and green cookies Tom had made before Gorilla left, that he threw that empty bottle to the wall and _wailed_.

He imagined Tom’s life. Imagined that sweet little shop being Tom’s. Sabine being Tom’s. With a little girl named Marinette that played with the flour and laughed as it sprayed. His drunken mind dragged his own traits into the girl. Imagined her sewing. Knitting. Humming and being okay with silence. He imagined her with a good heart. He imagined a girl he would never get to meet. He wished for more wine that night.

Christmases that followed were both better and worse.

But the present Christmas with a half empty box of Christmas cookies and an empty bottle wine, is where Gorilla moved. The bottle shattering as it was knocked over. But he didn’t look back. Going into his tiny closet, a tiny box was left on the highest shelf to the farthest spot.

A ring meant for the love of his life. Engraved with the date and their names. Bought with the checks from three months of pay back then. Gorilla’s fingers won’t clasp around the small box, because  long ago he realized what his drunken self would search for.

Sober Gorilla was the one that pushed it back enough that when he didn’t grab a stool, his hand would not reach. Instead the man sits down, his back to the shut door of his closet. Snow still billows around the balcony he can just see as the carols come from below; however, Gorilla sees nor hears it. All he can see is a mistletoe, the loving brown eyes, and he hears the softest _Merry Christmas, I love you_.

The next day the glass will be disposed, the rest of the cookies given away. He will pass by that bakery on his way to bring Adrien somewhere. And he will look. Look at that small shop, Sabine, and a girl named Marinette with a kind heart and creative wit.

He will imagine what would be if he stayed. But those thoughts never last.

Christmas Miracles could happen, one is what gave him Tom and it was another that let Tom go to the world he was destined to be in.

His Christmas wish was always to let Tom be happy. And it always came true.

But every Christmas it would haunt him.

 _Merry Christmas, Tom_. A soft gasp and an easy smile. _Merry Christmas, Gorilla_.

Which soon became _Merry Christmas, I love you_ by the next Christmas.

But when the wine hung in his head, as his eyes shut he would hear the rasp whisper of himself, looking to the sky that hung over a new city. _Merry Christmas, Tom, I’m sorry._

As he pulled away from that bakery, he would sometimes look back at Adrien smiling with Marinette as they headed up. And he would remember his choice was nothing to apologize for.

He never once heard the whisper of a man cooking well into the night, the whisper of a man fighting tears, the whisper of a man that felt guilt over his thoughts but all the same his heart would whisper _Merry Christmas, I wish you would’ve stayed_.

Gorilla didn’t always hate Christmas, at one time he might’ve said he loved Christmas.


End file.
